Her soft curves were pressed up against his side, her breasts against his ribs, her pelvis against his hip, one of her legs draped over his. She was warm and smelled amazing. He wanted nothing more than to slide his hand down, cup her ass and roll her over and underneath him, kissing her awake.
One definite reason to get a crib today.
The baby had slept through the night, which even James knew was miraculous and something that didn’t happen much with babies. He remembered Caleb talking about Jack, Lexi’s little boy, as a baby, being awake every two hours, hungry and wet.
That concerned James on one level. Maybe something was wrong with the baby. Maybe he shouldn’t be sleeping this much. But he hadn’t been feverish. He’d seemed appropriately alert and engaged when he’d been awake. James had gone through the basic tests that he knew from the field. Of course, most of his stuff had to do with triaging emergency situations, but they couldn’t be too far off even in this situation. And today he’d get some real, actual medical input on the kid.
The kid. Possibly his kid.
That had honestly not occurred to him until Harper said it.
Now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Was this little boy his son?
His heart kicked when he thought about that. It was possible, yes.
He hadn’t been with a woman since he’d first introduced Harper Broussard to his olive tree. But yes, it was possible that this little one was his, and that’s why he’d shown up on James’s step.
That hadn’t been his first thought when he’d seen the baby, though. He wasn’t sure why. In part, because he was a fanatic about condoms. And because, while he might not know the birthdays and favorite flower of all the women he’d slept with, he couldn’t imagine any of them being scared of coming to him with a pregnancy. Or at least sticking around with the baby when she brought him over.
Then again, it wasn’t like he’d delved deeply into the psyches of all his flings.
Harper took a deep breath in her sleep and let it out softly, snuggling closer. James’s body responded because, well, he’d wanted this woman for six months, and her ugly flannel pants, and the fact this whole situation was pretty complicated right now had zero negative effect on his libido. But there was an infant on his chest. One that was starting to squirm and would soon need attention, no doubt, and that would break up anything resembling a sexy moment.
James looked from the soft brown of Harper’s head to the darker tuft of hair on top of the baby’s head. Yes, it was very similar in color to his own hair. He blew out a breath. Well, fuck. This was not exactly how he’d expected to wake up next to Harper for the first time, but he might as well make the best of it. There was little he could do to change it right now. The baby—his or not—had been entrusted to him, and James was going to take care of him.
He was going to take care of Harper, too.
They’d had a date for sex the other night. The four-alarm fire had gotten in the way, but it had been a date. For sex. It had been clear. And he wasn’t about to let her forget about that. Yes, he now had a baby. Maybe. Well, he had a baby in his care, whether or not the kid was actually his biologically. But that didn’t mean he didn’t still want Harper. She’d been freaked out by it, understandably. But he’d seen two important things in her eyes along with the shock. He’d seen concern. For him. She’d been worried about him as she realized things had just gotten more complicated in his life. He’d also seen jealousy. There was another woman on her mind now. The baby obviously had a mother, and who she was to James mattered to Harper. He was sure she’d try to deny that, but he’d seen it.
Concern and jealousy. Those weren’t things that a woman felt for her across-the-landing neighbor. Those were things a woman felt for a guy she was interested in. A guy she cared about. He wasn’t going to let her just ignore those things or pretend they weren’t there.
Him having a kid didn’t change how he felt about her. He wanted Harper. He hadn’t even kissed her. Hadn’t seen her in a sexy dress. Hadn’t danced with her. But he’d never wanted a woman more.
And she wanted to dance with him.
That was going to happen.
Baby or not.
Speaking of whom—at that moment, the baby stretched and then screwed up his face, gave a little squawk, farted, and then threw up.
On Harper.
That woke Fred, who lifted his head and gave a little woof. James wasn’t sure if the dog was telling the baby to knock it off or if he was inquiring if the kid was okay. Fred was going to have to adjust to this whole thing quick, or he was going to be sleeping at Harper’s full time.
Harper stirred. Whether it was Fred’s noise or the warm goo on her neck, she frowned then opened her eyes, blinked and looked around, clearly trying to figure out where she was. James started to sit up as Harper lifted a hand to her neck where there was warm, sticky baby puke. Her eyes focused on his stomach then slid up to the baby, who had just let out another squawk and who was clearly gearing up for more noise as she pulled her hand away from her neck and looked at the white slime.
James was trying very hard to just keep his mouth shut. There wasn’t much good to say just then, and he was, frankly, having a hard time understanding why he found Harper so fucking hot when she looked so confused and disheveled. She had baby puke on her neck, and he would have put her up against the nearest firm surface in a heartbeat. If he didn’t have a baby in his hands, of course.
His rustling around disturbed Fred, who woofed and then got up, stretching and shaking. He focused on them all and gave a little bark.
The noise made the baby jerk and screw up his face, preparing to cry. James patted his back. “Shhh,” he cooed softly.
“Ami, quiet,” Harper admonished. “You’re okay.”
Fred snorted and jumped off the bed.
Yeah, off the bed might be good before the baby made more of a mess. James scooted to the opposite side and stood. With a sigh, Harper sat up on the side she was on, wiping at her neck, looking more resigned than disgusted, and James had to admit that was pretty great. She was a classy linguistics professor, but she wasn’t freaking out about being puked on.
He couldn’t help but pause in front of her as he rounded the bed on the way to the bathroom where he’d laid out a stack of towels to use as a diaper-changing station. “’Mornin’.”
Her gaze started at his knees and traveled upward. Slowly.
James became aware that he was only wearing his underwear. It was how he always slept, but he hadn’t woken up with a woman in a very long time so hadn’t thought much of it.
But hell, he’d gone to bed without a woman. This woman had come to him. In the middle of the night. Yeah, he couldn’t forget that, and he wasn’t going to let her forget that either.
Concern. That’s what had brought her across the landing. He knew it. But he thought maybe more than that had led her to climbing into bed with him.
The fitted underwear that didn’t have much space to accommodate the way his body responded to her perusal. It was too late to grab a blanket or pants or to shift to cover his growing erection with his hands. His hands were full anyway. Of a baby who was getting louder and squirmier. So he let her look.
Not that he minded. What he minded was not being able to do anything about the fact he was in only his underwear, and she was in pajamas, including a thin top that was slipping off one shoulder, while she was clearly braless, her creamy skin just begging to be touched, and there was a bed right there.